


Death And the (Boy) Detective

by Willowanderer



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Gen, Memory Alteration, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Taako/Kravitz only in the last chapter, Violence against Children, animal cruelty, author can't write mysterys to save her life, graphic descriptions of necromancy, violence against animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer
Summary: Angus is good detective. Kravitz does his job. They keep crossing paths.





	1. In Which Angus Meets Death

It started out as just a missing persons case.  Missing persons made up the majority of his work, frankly. It had started with items, and pets, then alibis and evidence, and now, most of the letters and messages asking for his help were to find someone who’d gone missing. Missing persons were most likely found within days of going missing. A time frame that had passed by the time the requests reached him, generally speaking. He still found people; sometimes they even wanted to be found. Sometimes it was better that they  _ weren’t  _ found, Angus discovered, and started investigating his clients as well as their requests. 

 

But this was a string of missing persons all in the same area. There hadn’t been any bodies found, so it probably wasn’t a serial killer. (it would be exciting if it were, but on the other hand, people dying shouldn’t be called ‘exciting’.) So Angus went to Mills Falls. It was a decently big town outside of Rockport, just far enough away to be considered it’s own town not a suburb, just small enough to be a town, not a city. It had it’s own town watch, and a dedicated building for them. His growing reputation would hardly be enough to cajole cooperation, so instead Angus spent the afternoon pretending to run messages and sitting very still pretending to be waiting for someone while he listened to the gossip between the guards, and people coming in to talk to them. Someone- lowerclass by their worn simple garments, comes in to beg if there is any news about their missing loved one. The desk officer managed not to sound bored as they told the barge worker that the watch was still looking into it.

Angus was contemplating how to get himself into the records room to find out what reports on missing people had been filed, when he heard the phrase that meant it was time for him to go.

“How long has that kid been here?”

He removed himself from the watch house just slowly enough not to appear suspicious. It was a careful balancing act he’d learned through trial and error. 

 

Having left the watch, Angus visited one of the people who had written him- this one upper class missing a wild teenager who’d gone missing before but never for this long. Angus did his best to reassure them. They seemed hopeful but resigned. Of course, why else take a chance on a detective in short pants? From there he went to the docks, where barges take goods upstream and down from the mills that give Mills Falls it’s name. It was getting late, late enough that a well dressed boy was unusual to see out and about. Not for the first time, Angus made a mental note to acquire clothing a little less conspicuous for actual investigations. People didn’t always keep the best track of people coming through the town down here. The number of missing persons could be larger than he thought, larger than anyone knew. It was only the differences between the various missing persons that kept him from deciding it was a serial killer after all. He’d read books about the subject, and talked to half drunk officers who’d seen them first hand. There was always a link between the victims, some similarity that set the killer off.

 

He was so busy thinking, he’d just barely noticed that he was being followed when they struck.  A sack was dragged down over his head in a smooth motion, and Angus tried to tear his way free, sack and all. Something hard came down on his shoulder as he squirmed. He yelped in pain, and another blow glanced across the hard part of his skull, cushioned by the bag, his hat and his curls in that order. Guessing they were trying to knock him out, he went limp and there weren’t any further blows. It might not be related to the missing persons, but getting kidnapped almost certainly meant he was on his way to something interesting. And if they thought he was unconscious, they wouldn’t try to make him  _ more  _ unconscious. Both his head and his sholder ached, as he was tossed into what felt like the bed of a wagon. 

 

His head was aching and the bag made it hard to smell anything but burlap and onions. He counted turns and slopes, and listened to the hushed talk of his captors. When the wagon stopped he was hauled up onto a shoulder with about as much care as the bag would warrant without it’s juvenile burden. He counted steps and jolts to his sternum as he was carried. Angus was pretty sure he was carried down stairs, switchback ones. His feet hit the wall at least once, scraping leather against stone. Cold, slightly wet air raised the hairs on his legs. He heard more people, and the bag was removed. Angus kept his eyes closed, his body limp and his breath steady. He was scared, but he had to stay focused if he wanted to make his way out of… whatever was going on.

“Some detective.” a voice said disparagingly. 

“Well we’ll make use of him, and get rid of him.” 

“Kinda lucky we found him today.”

“Yeah, he’ll do much better than another drunk.” 

While they took his satchel, they didn’t search him before tying his hands and feet together. Through his lashes he got a glimpse of a cave ceiling, lit by candles, before they added a blindfold, almost as afterthought. He was dropped on his side on something flat and made of stone, and it smelled faintly of copper and rot. His mind started racing, trying to decide on the best course of action. More voices entered the room, and his options narrowed. There was shuffling, and small talk, and the smell of more candles lighting. Then the chanting started. 

 

Suddenly, a slightly lower class, round sounding accent filled the room, pitched be heard over the arcane chanting. 

“I am required to read you your crimes. Be loves, shut up, and let me do it.” 

Chaos erupted spells being fired off and shouts rocking the room, echoing off the cave walls. At least one- no three people kept up the chant. The same voice cut through again. “Righto; different order then.” From the sounds that followed things were getting messy. Angus decided that now was a good time to stop being tied up. Given the screams, he wasn’t going to get any more incriminating evidence, and they would all be too distracted to notice anyway. The penknife he kept in his sleeve came out, cutting the ropes holding his wrists together.

“Right, now that you’re all a bit quieter…” the voice recited- no read a list of names- two of which were on his missing persons list, then followed it with a list of crimes. Necromancy, perverting life and death, and conspiring to create undead. Angus wiggled to cut the bonds on his feet, still blindfolded. “By order of the Raven Queen; you will be sequestered in the depths of the Astral plane until your crimes are atoned for.” There was a sound of ripping fabric. Had he heard that before? “That should- oh yes.” Angus could feel someone leaning over him, and held still, pretending to still be tied up- just in case. There was a pause, and he fought back a shiver. The stone he was lying on was cold.

“Well. I guess I don’t need to let you loose, do I?” 

Angus sat up, pulling the blindfold off, and noting with irritation that it had bent one of the arms of his glasses.  He supposed he should feel lucky they’d just tied it on over them anyway. Standing over him was a tall man with long dark hair held back in jeweled clasps, dressed in a black feathered cloak which was fastened with a bird’s skull at his throat. His eyes burned red in the dimness of the cave.

Angus offered a hand, ignoring that a loop of rope still dangled from his wrist. 

“Angus McDonald, boy detective.” he said. The dark skinned man stared at the little brown hand for a long moment.

“If you heard all of that, you know who I am.” 

“Yes sir, well, I know  _ what  _ you are, but it never hurts to be polite.”

There was another long pause, and the red eyes searched his face, before a cold hand took his, and shook. 

“Kravitz. Servant of the Raven Queen.” 

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Kravitz!” 

“I can honestly say I haven’t heard that much.” 

Agnus was looking around the cave with great interest, one hand on his glasses, fingers fumbling and trying to press the arm straight without taking them off. There wasn’t very much blood, for all the seeming carnage.  It seemed Kravitz’s weapon targeted spirit, not flesh. 

“How old are you, Agnus?” the reaper asked. 

“Well, sir, I think that age isn’t really important compared to competence, and”

“ _ How old are you _ .” he repeated, skin thinning to show bone beneath it.

“I’m eight years old.” Angus said flatly. He bit back the automatic ‘almost nine’ it never impressed anyone. 

“Do your parents know where you are?”

“Gosh I hope not.” Angus looked genuinely upset at the concept.

“Don’t you think you should go home then?”

“I will when I’m done here, sir.” He worked the loops of rope off his wrists and ankles. 

“Done with what?”

“Well, I now know two of the local missing persons were necromancers, but I need to check for personal effects that might let me know if any of the others were murdered by said necromancers. And maybe evidence of necromancy so I can tell the authorities.”

“I can’t let you walk out of here with an armful of necromantic texts.” 

“I can see how that would be inappropriate, sir. But that wasn’t what I had in mind anyway. Necromancy is bad news.” he looked around the room and the people- bodies- in robes scattered about it. “ _ Really _ bad news. A suckers game, if you will sir. I like my current career. And um, my pulse.”  Gingerly he reached out and nudged a body with the toe of his shoe. “Oh. He was in the watchhouse. That may explain some things.” Angus reached for his bag, only to remember it was gone, and started looking around for it. He was going to need notes; and he might have to run back to Rockport and the militia that knew him. A few minutes search turned it up, with Kravitz’s eyes on him the whole time. Angus was reminded of a bird of prey watching a small animal, and trying to decide if they were hungry. He didn’t know much about the Raven Queen. He knew who she was, but the Goddess of timeful and necessary death wasn’t that well worshiped. People didn’t like thinking about death. He knew she was responsible for souls, and hated undead. And that was it. 

 

Meanwhile Kravitz watched the small boy- this tiny eight year old boy with a brillant soul- cautiously moving to each body and writing down a description of each one without any seeming fear or disgust. When he spoke, Angus jumped slightly.

“Their victims are down that tunnel.” Kravitz pointed, not sure why he was being helpful. “They are, shall we say, significantly more dead.” Somehow the disgusted wince Angus made was reassuring. But he still tramped down the passage. Then back up it. Then back down, with a handkerchief tied over the lower half of his face. This time, Kravitz followed him. 

 

The bodies were probably intended to be resurrected into undead at some point. Kravitz didn’t really care what the plans necromancers made were after he’d disrupted them. But at least the dead were laid in rows, like bodies and not in piles, like garbage, which he’d seen before. The most recent body was about two weeks old. The bigger moon was in dark tonight, so it would have been full when they were killed. The passage had ended in a semi circular room, deeper than the first cave and cooler, but it didn’t do much. The fact the souls of the dead had been bound into the rotting bodies did more to preserve them. As he turned in an arc, he counted the bodies that were fanned out in the room. They seemed to be staggered the same way, each about two weeks older than the one before it. Kravitz’s hand passed over each body in turn, and he broke the bindings on the souls calling them out of their bodies-turned-prisons. Twelve bodies. Six months since they had started. It had taken him far too long to find this group. The boy detective was busily writing descriptions as best he could, of clothing where the features were difficult to tell. He started to say something, then choked on the air in the room, and retreated again. Kravitz had already come to the conclusion he was going to stay until the boy left, just to make sure he didn’t wander off with anything he shouldn’t. He tore open a rift to the astral plane, and assured the tormented souls they had a place in peace there. They couldn’t help their deaths.

 

When he came back into the first room, Angus was fishing about in a burlap sack, coming up with a hat and settling it on his head. He turned quite sharply to stare at Kravitz even though Kravitz was pretty sure he hadn’t made any noise.  

“I think I probably have enough information to take to the authorities now.” he said.

“Do you do this a lot?” Kravitz tipped his head, looking down at Angus. 

“This specifically, sir? No, generally my cases have lower body counts and more criminals.” 

“Oh they were criminals.” There was a long pause. “You may want to consider picking up a weapon proficiency.”

“Thank you for the advice sir. I think I’m going to work on not getting caught, for next time.” 

 

He looked over his notes, took a deep breath of the marginally fresher air, and turned towards the passages that didn’t lead to corpse storage. There were two. From where he stood they were identical, and close enough to each other that he wasn’t sure which one he’d been carried through. 

No, they weren’t identical- the floor of one of the tunnels was damper.  Damper in the pattern of several overlapping footprints. He picked up one of the candles that were scattered about the room, and headed down it. Suddenly remembering his manners, he stuck his head back in the room. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Kravitz, sir. It was really interesting to meet you!” 

Caught with his scythe out, he blinked- or rather the lights in his eyes went out then lit back up. 

“I hope I don’t see you again soon.” he responded. Angus gave a cheery wave, then headed down the tunnel. Behind him, he heard the sound of ripping fabric again. Taking that as an exit, Angus took a moment to process everything that had just happened, who he had just met, and how close he had been to dying, leaning against the wall and holding the candle carefully away from himself in one shaking hand. He let the panic rise for five breaths, then let it go with five more breaths. He still had to get out of the necromancer’s lair, and going spelunking with just a candle was not a good idea. Doing it while panicking would likely be fatal. Raising the candle he followed the footprints down the hallway. 

 

Shortly, he began to hear rushing water, and soon after that, the tunnel dead ended in a sheet of water, a pool of water forming at the edge.  The footprints emerged from it. Carefully hugging the wall he crept past the wall of water, and found himself on a ledge by a waterfall. His candle was out by that time, but the stars were bright enough he could see the path that led down. Into a thick, deep forest. A couple horses and a donkey are tethered by the river down below. Angus contemplated his options. Take one of the horses, who presumably knew their way home, through a dark, unknown forest. That would end him up at the home of a dead necromancer, best case scenario. Wait here until light, then try to find his way back to town himself. Or… he could go back down the tunnel to the ritual cave, where candles would still be burning, and try the second tunnel, where presumably there would be the stairs he was brought down. It would be dark, and it had been almost a quarter hours walk down the tunnel to the waterfall exit, but there had been nothing in it, and the floor had been damp, but even. Over the sound of the waterfall, Angus heard something howl in the forest. It scared him in a way meeting death hadn’t. 

 

He inched back behind the waterfall, put his hand on the wall and walked into the darkness. After a few minutes, the darkness swims as he tried to see, so he closed his eyes. He still had the wet candle in his hand, and he clutched it like it would light back up on it’s own. Angus hadn’t realised he’d opened his eyes again until he saw the gentle glow up ahead. He started running, and burst into the lighted room like a swimmer reaching the surface. Angus wasn’t afraid of the dark, per say. But he was glad to see the light.

 

Angus found a lantern in niche at the bottom of the tight switchback stairs just out of sight of the tunnel entrance and contemplated what bad words he knew. 

“Darn.” he finally said, the word exploding out of him in a gust of breath. The lantern was too heavy for him to hold up properly, but he did his best, and started climbing the stairs, counting each one as he went. 

 

Angus tried not to think too hard about the fact he’d found the missing person he’d been hired to.


	2. In Which It Keeps Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus and Kravtiz run into each other an improbable amount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got MASSIVELY away from me. Each encounter was only supposed to run a paragraph, but most of them are bigger than a drabble, but I didn't feel comfortable posting them singly because thematically, they are all part of the same bit of story. So uh, grab a drink and watch for flying references.
> 
> ps: it is super important to picture Kravitz's cockney accent.

The next time they encountered each other, Kravitz was wearing a shell of moss draped wood. It had been several months. It also took him a moment to recognise the boy detective.  Angus’s once-neat blouse and vest looked out of place on the swampy island, and he had swamp muck splashed all the way up to his glasses, his socks were a sodden mess. He also had a small crossbow trained on Kravitz, despite the fact his golem form was huge. Angus was also standing between him and his bounty, a witch, despite the fact that small humanoid skulls topped the fence around the tempting looking cottage. Lights burned behind the sockets, casting some light into the tree shrouded gloom. 

“I don’t have the patience for this.” He dropped the wooden form and swept past Angus in pure spirit, as the bolt left the bow. Kravitz coalesced into his corporeal form, already swinging his scythe at the witch. It skittered across a very capable soul cage, protecting her tainted soul from conventional reaping. She cackled in triumph, but was cut short as he abandoned the scythe to plunge his bony hand into her chest physically. He withdrew her heart, and her soul with it. He flicked the organ away, but kept her struggling soul in a cage of finger bones. 

“Give up.” He instructed her. Her death broke the hold on the spirits trapped within the skulls. Some fled to the astral plane, glad to be able to finally find their peace. Others buzzed angrily around his hand, trying to attack the soul he held. Her body, no longer supported by magic turned to rot and bones. Angus turned in time to watch that happen. He clapped a dirty hand over his mouth, then turned again, unable to keep his bile and from the looks of it, his last meal from rising. 

 

When he finished Kravitz was still trying to gently shoo the angry souls away from his captive. They were confused, and rightfully angry, and he’d have to take time to soothe them later. 

“Sorry.” Angus croaked, then cleared his throat, hooking the crossbow to his backpack. The pack was sized for him, with several exterior pockets and a grappling hook hung on the side the crossbow was not. The top flap had the name “Caleb Cleveland’ in fancy script, embroidered between a stylized badge and magnifying glass. “Sorry for trying to shoot you, Mr. Kravitz.”

Kravitz drew himself up, and put his face on though the hand confining the witch’s soul remained skeletal. 

“Oh good it  _ is  _ you, sir. I thought I recognised your voice.” 

“What would you have done if you were wrong, then?”

“Introduced myself?” He smiled brightly. 

“Do you always introduce yourself to people?”

“When I’m being polite.” 

Kravitz tried not to be impressed by the fact Angus had recognized his voice the three sentences, two of which hadn’t been more than three words.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Finding missing children?” 

Kravitz looked at the souls buzzing around his captive again, then to the fence posts, then back to Angus.  Angus held a finger to his lips.

“Hello?” came a voice from somewhere in or behind the cabin. “Is someone there? Where’s the witch?” A second voice hushed it, plainly terrified. 

“Will you be able to get back?” 

“Oh yes, there’s a path, I just didn’t take it because I was trying to sneak up.” 

“Still working on the stealth thing I see.”

“But I  _ did  _ pick up a weapon proficiency! If you’ll excuse me?” he gestured to the cottage. 

Kravitz gestured to the soul. 

“I suppose we both have work to do.” 

“It was nice seeing you again, then.” Angus gave a polite nod and wave, producing a small lantern from his bag and lighting it. Kravitz shook his head, not sure how ‘nice’ entered into the encounter. Angus was a strange boy. 

 

Angus hadn’t expected to run into Kravitz again, though he had taken some time to learn more about the Raven Queen.  For instance the innocuous term ‘servant’ that Kravitz had used was reserved for those who served directly under the goddess herself. For all intents and purposes he had the power of a demigod. It also meant Kravitz was just as dead as the corpses in the cave, and probably for longer. He probably should have been afraid of him. At the same time, he could appreciate a goddess who liked rules. Angus liked rules, even though he broke them from time to time. And as long as he stayed on the right side of the rules of death, he was in no danger from Kravitz.  

 

The cottage wasn’t as grimy as he would have expected on the inside. He had to move through it to the fenced yard in back. There was a large caldron, and behind that- cages. And one small child, huddled against them. Smaller than him even. Two dirty faces pressed their way between the bars. 

“I told you I heard someone else!” 

“It’s a trick it has to be.” Said the small girl. 

“No trick!” Angus said, as he walked around the cauldron, which was easily big enough to fit a body in.  “Uh, the witch is dead.”

“AWESOME!” Yelled the kid in the cage. The little girl started crying. 

“Is one of you Chris Talsen?” 

“Me, I’m Chris!” He pointed at the other cage. “That’s Pearl, and John.” Pearl was being held through the bars by John. Now that he was closer he could see they were half-elves, and probably related. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Angus McDonald, And your parents sent me to find you.” 

“Even though I ran away from home?” 

“We’re bad, bad children.” sobbed Pearl. “That’s why we’re here. Bad children get eaten.” 

Chris gulped, and all three of the children looked away from the cauldron. Angus could see that some of the mess on Chris’s clothes was dried vomit. He could sympathize. 

“Absolutely, they’re worried sick about you.”  Angus looked over the lock holding the cage shut. He got to work on it.

“Then why did they send a kid?” Chris’s question was quiet, half hidden under Pearl’s sobs. 

Angus wanted to protest, but now wasn’t the time. 

“They sent lots of people. I’m just the one who found you. Because I’m  _ very good _ .” the lock opened and he yanked the cage open. He knew that Chris was a year younger than he was, so it was kind of frustrating that he was taller, once he’d unfolded from the small cage. The cages were barely big enough to hold their victims. Chris immeditly went over and started yanking on the door of the other cage. Angus moved to unlock it. 

“I’m sorry.” John said, even though he was crying. “She made Pearl work for her, and it was… it was hard. Harder than home was.” he tumbled out of the cage into his sister’s arms. 

“Don’t worry.” Angus said firmly. “I’ll help you find your family.” This only started another wail from Pearl.

“No no no.” she sobbed. “We’re bad, we’re trash, she threw us away. Daddy doesn’t want stupid useless half blood children.” 

“Wait.” Angus said, “You aren’t trash, and you aren’t bad.”  That shocked her into silence. “I don’t know what happened, but I’ll find out.”

“You can stay with me.” Chris said. “I told you right? If we got out, you could come with me.”

“She killed them. She killed Mark and Deb and Tanner and ate them and I cleaned up after it.” Pearl settled down from hysterics into shock.  John held her, even though he was plainly leaning on his sister. He looked apologetically at Angus. Almost like he was afraid.

“Well she’s dead now, and we need to get going. I don’t want to be here after dark.”  Angus thought for a moment, and made a decision. “Would seeing her body make you feel better?” If what Pearl said was true, it couldn’t be any worse than anything they’d seen before.  All three children stiffened, but Chris and John nodded. 

 

The looks on their faces when they saw the fallen mass of what had been their captor were shocked. In a surge of defiance, or maybe revenge, John kicked the skull. It flew off the island and sunk into the muck. Chris looked at Angus with such awe that Angus decided that he would just… not mention it wasn’t actually him that killed her. A little bit of awe would get him and his fellow captives moving. Path or no, he really didn’t want to be in the swamp after dark.

 

* * *

  
  


Angus was on alert looking for the reaper on the case with the half Drow with the wedding fetish, but there was apparently no necromancy involved, just ten dead wives, a whole lot of thinly veiled misogyny, and some light cannibalism.

 

* * *

  
  


They ran into each other again when Angus was investigating an old mansion. Angus had not expected there to be an actual ghost, let alone ninety-nine of them. A significant number of the ghosts were in the ‘angry to homicidal’ range, and willing to cannibalize their spiritual roommates for power.  They fully intended to kill whoever came into the house to keep it going as well. Dodging falling chandeliers and throttling drapes was significantly different than discovering just how the ghosts were being faked to reduce the property values. Kravitz kept moving past him, getting increasingly more frazzled looking, as he tried to gather the ghosts until Angus stumbled across the real crux of the problem- A Litch, who’d gotten trapped in a crystal ball who was manipulating the ghosts, but whose presence was masked by the ghosts. Once that was taken care of the ghosts mostly calmed down, and were easily brought to heel. Angus was able to go to the owner and confidently say that there were no ghosts in the house, just badly thought out architecture.

 

* * *

  
  


Kravitz didn’t care for catacombs. He was well acquainted with a great many different burial traditions, if only because necromancers loved to mess with them. Catacombs were dark, narrow and they smelled. But mostly it was the narrow he objected to. It was less than an ideal place to fight with a scythe.  The necromancers he was tracking were fairly low level, but had the potential to grow to something much worse. He ghosted along behind them, waiting for the right moment. They didn’t seem to sense him, but were on edge nonetheless. Twitchy, hands on wands, light kept low. A sense of whimsy overtook him. It was far too easy to lean between them, appear suddenly say and say ‘Boo’ before dousing their lamp and disappearing again. Spells lit up the catacombs in flashes as both tried to attack the glowing skull that had briefly appeared. Really, it should be a rule that necromancers shouldn’t be afraid of skulls, even if it would make his job harder. 

“By order of the Raven Queen- I am to arrest you for crimes against death.” Kravitz threw his voice, and one of them screamed as a misscast burst of flame hit them instead of him. None of them thought to cast light, screaming at eachother, at the darkness, in general. Of course, Kravitz was helping with the confusion, moving about silently as he continued to list their crimes.  A spell whizzed by his head, and a different sort of scream filled the air, one of terror. A fear spell then. He should stop playing. Light flared at his command, startling his targets into yelps. 

“Boo.” he said again, still feeling whimsical, before bringing his scythe down in a tight arch that got both of them. He gathered their souls up in his hand before sending them off to the Stockade. He chuckled. One last thing to do. 

“You can come out, Mr. McDonald.” Kravitz said, hand propped on his hip.  There wasn’t a response. “I know you’re there. I can feel your soul.” 

It took a moment for Angus to pop out of hiding. He’d been really well hidden. 

“Hello sir!” 

“I realise that this is what you do, but I’m concerned that an eight year old boy is crawling around catacombs in the middle of the night.”

“Technically it’s very early morning, and I’m  _ nine _ .” he rubbed the inside of his cuff on a smudge on his cheek. 

“A vast improvement.” Kravitz’s accent went momentarily flat. Angus cocked his head at the reaper, eyes narrowing, but then he shrugged. 

“I’ve been here the last three nights staking it out sir.”  

“Staking out bone thieves?”

“I thought they were smugglers. And I guess they were. Smuggling bones.”  He carefully worked his way down to the damp floor of the catacomb. “Oh, that one is still alive.” Angus peered closer, and when the huddled figure didn’t respond, checked their pouch for identification. 

“‘That one’ wasn’t actually doing necromancy. She’s just an accomplice.” 

“Dr. Faith Mackay- she’s an archaeologist and anthropologist at the local university.” he put the identification back in her pouch carefully. She whimpered, face still covered with her hands.

“What.”

“Oh she must have been identifying bones for them!” Angus said excitedly. “It would be easy to identify a dragonborn or telfling skeleton but elf and half elf look a lot more human when the flesh is gone. Oh and the magic inherent in the physiology would be why-”

“If you would please not deduce your way  _ straight  _ into necromantic theory, Mr. McDonald?” 

“Whoops.” his smile was somewhat unrepentant. “Just theory though.” 

“Of course.” Really the thought of the bones holding magic wasn’t the dangerous part. It was using the magic that still clung to the bones when they were ground to powder to infect people’s lungs, turning them- briefly- into living zombies. It was only briefly because the victims died, slowly and painfully, trapping the souls in the body to fuel the zombies from then on. And Half-elf bones would work on humans and elves.  And taking a bone from a still ‘living’ human zombie would result in dust that would cross to almost all humanoids. 

“She’s been hit with a fear spell.” Kravitz told Angus. “She’ll recover in a few more rounds.”  He leaned over her and said “Remember. Don’t do necromancy. It’s bad for you.” He raised his eyebrows at Angus, and disappeared. 

“Wait sir-  didn’t you cast the-” the catacombs went dark. “Light spell.” 

 

* * *

 

There was a soul that was acting up and causing trouble. He just wouldn’t settle. Kravitz went to talk to him and try to calm him down before he made real trouble. The spirit was agitatedly percolating near the shore of the sea. As Kravitz approached, it approached him. 

“I don’t understand.” the spirit complained.

“You’re dead. This is the Astral Plane.”  Sometimes it took a while to get through.

“That doesn’t make sense.” he whirled in tight annoyed circles.  “I was just at my grandfather’s deathbed. How could  _ I _ be dead?”  

Kravitz called up a book of the recently deceased and let it fan open in his hand. 

“Here you are; Don Cameron  the Third. Died as fated, two days ago.”

“But… I’m Don Cameron  _ the Fifth _ .” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m only twenty four years old. I just got married last year.” 

“It says here-” he tapped the page  “aged seventy two.” 

“My  _ grandfather  _ was seventy two.”

Kravitz had heard much stranger stories from souls who claimed they didn’t deserve their fate. Claiming mistaken identity was pretty bizarre, given that he’d died of natural causes. And Don Cameron the Fifth was still on the books with a full life ahead. But the spirit seemed to believe what he was saying. And having someone listen calmed the him down immensely. Kravitz didn’t have any bounties he was currently tracking, so he decided to investigate.

 

The Cameron family was one of the biggest names in organized crime in Neverwinter. They had their fingers in almost everything bigger than petty theft, and the lack of contact in that was partly due to feeling it was beneath them. The family had risen up to prominence nearly a century ago, and had stood strong since.  Angus was hoping that he could take advantage of the death of the head of the family and whatever disorganization followed to get some solid evidence. If he got enough, he’d be able to take it high enough that someone would listen. And not be intimidated by the family. 

 

There was some sort of party going on. Kravitz supposed it could be a wake. There were a lot of people in fancy clothes, tiny food on platters, and wine. Everyone was wearing black, at least, and there were enough of them that no one noticed one more black clad body. The wine was good, and there was a chamber quartet playing quietly at one end of the room, and a coffin at the other. He couldn’t sense any necromantic energy, but something still seemed off. Death was in the room, and it wasn’t just him. At the head of the room were two men who were clearly related, standing with their wives. Don Cameron the Fourth and Fifth, presumably. The coffin aside they were clearly the focus of the party, so no one noticed as Kravitz stared at them. There it was again, the feeling that something was off. Body language- that was it. The father was deferring to his son, and the son’s body language was… old. A confidence that didn’t match a human in their early twenties. Cold eyes surveying the room as if they owned it. Kravitz sipped his wine and opened his senses further. Death stain filled the room like perfume. So many people in this room had killed. He didn’t even have to try to feel it. There was a strange trail between the body in the coffin and the younger Cameron. It was magic not necromantic, necessarily, but it’s close. Then brushing at the edge of his range, a bright soul he’d learned to recognise. Of course. Kravitz finished his drink. 

 

Angus snuck upstairs. He’d gotten a lot better at being sneaky. The wake that didn’t seem very sad to him was filling most of the ground floor of the Cameron’s mansion. If there was anything incriminating in the mansion, it would be in the personal quarters. A family this old, this strong, would probably be arrogant, like they couldn’t be touched. There would be  _ something _ . He just had to find it. Luck was on his side. The second room he searched was some sort of office. It was lined in books that didn’t look like they’d been read, with french doors behind the enormous hardwood desk that opened up onto a balcony. There was a portrait of the first Don Cameron, who had dragged his gang up into mob territory, and himself from a thug to a member of society. A safe was set into the wall- almost certainly a decoy. Angus set to work. He ran his fingers over the tops of the books in the shelves checking for mechanisms. He checked behind the portrait- another safe, this one with a keyhole instead of a combination. Deceptively simple. He pulled out the enchanted lope he’d recently acquired, and peered through it. There was a spell on the safe, beside the keyhole. One he’d seen before, it could only be opened by one person. Angus huffed, he didn’t know his way past that yet.  He was picking the lock on one of the desk drawers when he heard someone coming. He slid into the knee hole as the door opened. 

 

“Let’s continue in here. Don’t want to disturb our guests.” There was a scratch of a match, then the warm glow of the oil lamp on the desk. 

“Look, I don’t know what the problem is.” The second voice sounded older. 

“The problem is you thought you could poison me.” 

There was a beat of silence before the denial. 

“You think you can trick me, boy?” he snarled. “I’m Don Cameron. I built this family, I outsmarted death and I will own this city. You aren’t needed.” 

“I’m your son.” the words were hissed out.

“Not anymore.” he laughed.  “Now I’m your son, funny how that works.” Someone sat hard in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. “Sit your ass down. If your cruddy assassination attempt was your way of saying you want to talk, let’s talk.”

“I thought it would be my turn.”

“You knew how this worked when I took over your father. You caught on. Part of why I’m so disappointed in you.” Feet paced, and Angus pressed himself against the modesty panel, worried that someone would come sit behind the desk.  “But I suppose perception isn’t the same thing as intelligence.” The rattle of glass decanters to one side of the windows. 

“I could do it. I could lead the family. Just… give it to me for a while.”

“Just like that?” 

“You’ve had your turn, lifetimes!” the creak of a leather chair. “You’ll have another when I die. I can’t cast the spell.” 

The younger voice laughed. “Oh Donny, Donny my boy, I know you could lead.” the footsteps paced back. “Here. Lets try that drink again.” A pause, and Angus breathed as silently as he could. This wasn’t what he expected to find at all. “Your problem is you think too small. You’d keep us top of the messy tangle of crime this city is grown from.”

“You have other plans?” he sounded skeptical. 

“Another generation or two, and I’ll be more than a crime lord, I will be a Lord of the city, to rival any other. But I have to keep going up. With or without you.” 

There was a cough, and something hit the floor in front of the desk with a clink. 

“You didn’t-”

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to die. You’re just going to sleep. And wake up with a terrible hangover. Give you a little time to think.” There was the sound of breath being let out heavily. The sound of a glass being set down on the desk. More rustling. More footsteps. The door. Angus counted a careful two minutes, and unfolded himself from his hiding place. 

 

There was a slumped body in one of the plush leather chairs beside the desk, breathing, but otherwise unmoving. A single cut crystal glass with a bit of reddish brown liquid in it beside the glowing oil lamp. The smell of alcohol in the air. Angus bit his lower lip. That had been a close call. But he hadn’t found any evidence yet.  What he’d overheard was disturbing yes, but not really  _ actionable _ . 

 

“Well what do we have here?” Don Cameron was back, and Angus had somehow missed the door opening. Of course if he really was lifetimes old, he was probably a  _ very good _ rogue. Angus turned, readying his normal excuse of being turned around and lost in the big house. He opened his mouth to start, eyes wide and innocent.

“I know who you are. You’re that boy detective who’s been being such a pain.” He crossed his arms, and gave a short laugh. “Now what am I going to do with you? Caught in my private office like a common thief?” 

Angus tried to sidle around him towards the door.

“Your grandfather’s office, you mean?” 

A hand closed around his arm. 

“Close enough. You’re not leaving here until I find out what you’ve heard.” 

The boy detective jerked backwards, and hit the edge of the desk, cracking his head hard. He got to his feet in time to dodge again as Cameron tried to grab him, eyes watering, and dug in his bag for his crossbow. As he was grabbed by the front of his blazer and slammed into the floor, he reflected that it was too hard to get out and he had to work on that. The crossbow tumbled out of his hand as he was tossed bodily into the desk. 

“Snoopy little boy is gonna take an unfortunate fall.” Don Cameron snarled. Angus scrabbed to get his hands on something and threw it as hard as he could. It sailed right past the criminal’s head and crashed into the bookshelves. It was the lit oil lamp, and the books caught remarkably well in the splash of fuel. Angus pulled himself to his feet, and saw Don Cameron holding his crossbow.

“You know, I was going to let him live.” he gestured to the collapsed body on the floor. “But I have a better idea now.” he pulled a theatricaly sad face. “My poor father killed on the day of my grandfather’s wake by a rotten little detective who never should have been encouraged.” 

“No!” it burst out of Angus without him thinking about it.

The bolt fired and a hand formed around it, snatching it out of the air. Kravitz stood there, regarding the room, cape fluttering in the growing fire.

“Not really my style, but I suppose I can save a life when I fancy.” 

“Mr. Kravitz!” Angus gulped. “That’s the  _ first _ Don Cameron. He keeps taking the body of his children!” 

“I see.” He tipped his head, turning to Don Cameron. “I  _ thought _ so, but I appreciate your testimony, Mr. McDonald.”

“I know what you are. You can’t touch me. It’s not necromancy.” 

“Oh is that what you think?” His eyes flashed, and Don Cameron backed up. “You think the way you’ve cheated and twisted from death is going to keep you safe from The Raven Queen’s judgement?” The criminal sidled towards the door, suddenly looking worried.

“I haven’t…”

“I don’t have to kill you.” Kravitz said. “I just have to  _ wait _ .” He thrust his bony hand out and turned it sharply to the right. Don Cameron lurched, even though he hadn’t been touched. “Your soul is locked in that body now.  No more jumping ship. But don’t worry. When it dies, I’ll be there to bring you in. Personally.” The man ran.

 

They both stared at the burning building, and the fire brigade arriving. Most of it would be saved, more than likely. The rich could buy a lot of favors. Out of nowhere, Angus started talking.

“People hear ‘boy detective’ and think I only take cases about children.” he sighed, sounding much older than he was. “I love my work, but it’s very diminutizing. And then it’s always ‘please leave this to the proper authorities, Young Mr McDonald’ and if they could I would, but I’m  _ better  _ than them. And it takes  _ forever  _ to get them to believe me.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“No sir, I think I may have a concussion so if you could please point me in the right direction I’d sure appreciate it.”

 

* * *

  
  


Angus had been hired to investigate the man’s fiance. He loved her dearly, but was curious.  At first, Angus couldn’t find anything odd. She lived with her older brother in a little cottage. Mary and Byron Jackson, moved into Neverwinter almost a year ago from Blackwaters. Mary grew flowers, and Byron transcribed books, but they mostly lived off a small inheritance from their family. Unremarkable, except for Mary meeting and capturing the heart of Thomas Greenstag, last surviving son of the Greenstag estates and fortune. Angus could objectively see how she’d catch someone’s eye, pretty, pale, with mounds of heavy auburn curls.  She dressed like she was still in mourning for her parents, in blacks and lilacs, eschewing jewelry for a black velvet ribbon tied around her neck. The only exception to that being the engagement ring Thomas had given her, no matter what other gifts of jewelry he’d presented her with. A little eccentric, but nothing really suspicious. 

 

Except...

 

According to the records in Blackwaters, Mary had died three years before, a victim of a serial killer. Their parents had died the following year, after a long decline and sequestering themselves.  What should have been a quick trip, to make sure there weren’t outstanding warrants or anything had turned up a real mystery. 

 

Sneaking into their cottage wasn’t strictly legal but well within what detectives did. Caleb Cleveland did it at least once a book. In a locked chest at the bottom of Byron’s closet, he found newspaper articles about Mary’s death, and their parents obituary. It wasn’t unheard of for a married couple to die in the same night, but they were a little young for it. Beneath that, he found a book whose leather binding felt uncomfortable under his fingers, and two bundles of papers, one stained and in a crabbed scrawl, and the other in the precice nearly mechanical writing that Byron copied books in. Angus didn’t understand all of it. But what he did understand explained far too much. The last book was a ledger, with the siblings’ finances in it. Again, in Byron’s meticulous handwriting. It seemed he was as bad at math as he was good at writing. They were out of money, and heading into debt. Even  _ without  _ the necromancy it looked bad. 

 

The siblings were visiting when Angus came to tell Thomas what he’d found. Uncomfortable, Angus tried to offer to come back another time. Thomas proceeded to explain why Angus was there, and who he was, laughing it off. Mary smiled at Angus pleasantly enough, but her brother’s face looked still and tense.  And it got worse, as Angus explained what he’d found. With evidence, because it was pretty unbelievable. 

 

Including the two articles about Mary’s death, because her head had been found a full week before her body. 

 

“Oh no.” Mary seemed genuinely distressed, starting to pull away from her fiance, but he didn’t let her. 

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding, my love.” Thomas said, combing his hand through her hair. “Here. I can prove it.” One handed he undid the bow that held the ribbon around her throat. It slid away, leaving a red line, like a pressure mark. 

“Oh.” Mary said softly.  “I’m so sorry, Thomas.” her green eyes went blank. The line across her throat split, and her head tumbled to the floor, followed by her body in an ungraceful tangle of limbs and skirts. Thomas stared at the ribbon in his hand, and the body on the floor in shock. 

“No!” Screamed her brother, lunging at them. Angus whirled to face him, crossbow out.  The manic lunge was stopped by a hand on the back of his coat. A skeletal hand. 

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you, Byron.” Kravitz chuckled apparently indifferent to the other people in the room. “Nasty bit of work you did with your sister. Clever to bind it all up into that ribbon though.  Couldn’t spot you until it released.” Angus put his crossbow away in his bag. 

“She… she said she never took it off… she… I...” Thomas looked at Angus, face twisted with grief. “Did you know this would happen?”

“Not this exactly no.” Angus was staring at the body, and the clearly visible spine along the clean cut of the neck. There was no blood however. “But given this…” he took a deep breath, and met Thomas’s eyes.  “The health problems in your family are almost as well known as the wealth. I think the plan was for you to get too curious, take the ribbon off, then have a heart attack when her head came off, and then your entire estate would go to her brother as the last living relative.” 

“But, my parents spent a fortune for a healer to fix my heart… and now it’s broken.” 

Angus ignored the melodramatics, and the list of necromantic crimes being read behind them. 

“I guess that wasn’t common knowledge, sir. I’m sorry.” 

“But… isn’t there away to get her back?” he asked “I really do- did- love her, she was alive, she was real, she was my darling.” 

“I can definitely say that going down that path will not end well.” Angus said with as much force as he could. A cold shadow fell over both of them. Angus looked up as Kravitz leaned over his shoulder into Thomas’s face. Bone gleamed, haloed with pitch back feathers. 

“She is back where she belonged, innocent of wrongdoing.  _ Don’t  _ make me come back for you.” 

Angus was suddenly very glad that Thomas didn’t share his family’s weak heart. 

Instead the man swallowed, and managed to get out a sentence, as the reaper stood back up.

“Mary is alright? Where she is?”

“At peace, which she wasn’t, strapped back into her body like that.” 

Thomas nodded, and folded down beside her body, straightening the limbs and propping the head back against the neck. He was crying now, silently. Kravitz made a small, slightly surprised noise. 

“Well, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” He nodded at Angus, and tore a portal back to the Astral Plane, taking Byron’s soul with him. 

 

Angus was not looking forward to explaining this to the guard. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kravitz was moving through the space between realms, more or less minding his own business- that is going over what bounty he was going to track down next- when he felt something reach out and grab his core. It felt superficially like a summons from the Raven Queen, but then it  _ hurt _ . It grabbed him and ripped him through the planes until he exploded outward, staggering and finding himself on a small raised platform draped in black velvet, surrounded by shards of eggshell. Despite the fact he didn’t need to breathe, he needed a moment to gather himself, and heard someone cry.

“It’s here! Close the circle and begin the binding!” 

He swiped pain from his eyes and glared around the room. Concentric circles of witch-fire glowing chalk ringed the platform he was on, each bordered and marked with eldritch symbols. Five dead ravens were splayed out on the floor, wings spread, blood spattered around them, forming a ring around the altar.  Behind them he saw robed figures taking a step forward, and breaking into a chant, each word crisp and clearly spoken. He could feel the binding magic taking shape, and whirled in place taking in the magical circles surrounding him. He hadn’t seen such meticulous work in over a century. But several key symbols were missing from the one that would keep him from hurting them. He wondered how such careful spellcasters could miss something so  _ obvious  _ when he saw a small brown hand sneak out from beneath the velvet covering the platform he stood on, and rub out a symbol from the binding circle. The chant continued but the binding was slipping. It slid over him like a silk veil, as he could feel another symbol from the half formed binding being erased. If Kravitz had not already been in skeletal form, his smile would have split his face. As it was he couldn’t contain a cackle of laughter, which to their credit, did not seem to phase the casters. They were so absorbed in their casting, so sure of their circles, they didn’t even notice him summoning his scythe, or anything until he leapt lightly from his supposed confinement to land on the stone floor. 

“By the Authority granted to me by the Raven Queen- I will now take you all into custody.”  

Then the screaming started. 

 

When the screaming stopped, Angus peered out from his hiding spot. What he saw was well polished shoes, crisp black pants and the edges of a feathered cloak.  Kravitz looked down at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know,” he drawled “I might have to get suspicious if I keep finding you in places like this.”

The boy detective shrugged. 

“I’m really not doing it on purpose, Sir. I just keep … finding them.” 

“Being around this much necromantic energy is bad for you.” 

Angus peered around his cape. 

“Worse for them.” he chirped. “Anyhow, you can’t count the first time. They kidnapped me, after all, so that’s not really my fault sir.”

The reaper tried to keep from smiling, the last thing he wanted to do was encourage him. Maybe he should stop putting his skin back on to talk to him. 

“And this time?” 

“Well sir, I was pretty sure it might have necromantic roots, uh, two days ago. But I didn’t have all the information yet. Besides” He spread his hands helplessly. “I thought ‘how many necromantic circles could be operating within a two day ride from Neverwinter’?”

“I’ve been working for the Queen for centuries, and let me tell you; I am constantly amazed.” 

“Duly noted sir.”

“Not gonna keep your precious head from it, is it?” 

Angus made a small exasperated noise. “Your accent is thicker again.” he pointed out. 

“I think  _ my  _ accent is the least of  _ your  _ worries, Mr. McDonald.” 

He giggled. 

“You can call me Angus you know. I think we know each other well enough.” 

Kravitz sighed, but couldn’t hide the smile. He reached out to toustle the boy’s hair, then stopped himself, pointing a finger at his face instead. 

“I have to go. Their sentencing is going to run on. I’m going to trust you to leave without touching  _ anything _ . This” he waved his hand at the room corpses and all “is especially bad news,  _ even  _ for necromancy.”

“I could sweep the floor?” Angus offered, scuffing a foot through a line of chalk. 

“ _ Anything _ , The Raven Queen has people to deal with cleanup of-”  he stopped “You were joking.”

“I was joking.” Angus confirmed. “It was a goof.” 

“Go.” he pointed at the door. 

“Goodbye sir!” 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Kravitz was working on paperwork in his office when he heard a knock on his door and another reaper stuck their head in.

“I have a message for you?” 

“What is it, Keats- wait from  _ who _ ?” 

“I was on ‘scare ‘em straight’ duty, and spooked a bunch of kids doing parlor necromancy.”

“Uh-huh…” 

“And one of them” Keats bit his lips together, and when he continued, Kravitz realised he was trying not to laugh. “Told me I was very impressive, and to ‘please say hello to Mr. Kravitz’ for him.” 

Kravitz let his head fall to the desk.

“Did he introduce himself?”

“Why yes, how did you guess?” he wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter now. “Why do you know a seven year old detective?” 

“He’s nine.”

“Oh good, he’s nine.” 

Kravitz started laughing too.

 

* * *

  
  


“How in the  _ hell _ did you think you could handle a vampire!?”

“I didn’t know it was a REAL vampire!” Angus complained wiggling where he was tucked under Kravitz’ arm. “Last time it wasn’t! Please put me down, sir, this is embarrassing.” 

“What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”

“I would have thought of something.” 

“Fucking undead summoning undead.” Muttered Kravitz under his breath, voice sounding oddly flat. He put Angus down. “Stay here. Skeletons won’t be impressed by your crossbow.” 

“You sure aren’t, sir.” Angus mumbled and Kravitz shot him a sour look. 

“Veracity of vampires aside, what are you even doing here?” 

“There was a mystery sir. No one’s lived in this castle for years, but suddenly there were lights in the windows, and people and livestock going missing...” 

“That’s because a vampire came back here for the first time in nearly fifty years and started gathering minor undead and raising skeletons and imps to guard it like he’s planning something.” Growled Kravitz

“Are you alright, sir?” 

“No, I got lost in the castle and I don’t know how I managed it.” honestly he’d found his way out by sensing Angus’s soul and snatching him out of the main hall just before the elder vampire entered.  He sighed. “I have gotten entirely too used to you, Mr. McDonald.”

“I like you too, sir.” 

Kravitz stared at him.

“You treat me like I can think.” He sat down on the edge of gallery, looking down into the great hall far below. “I mean, you keep protecting me, but you don’t treat me like a child.” 

“You  _ are  _ a child.” 

“Maybe but it’s no fun to be treated like it.” He jumped as the main door to the hall banged open. 

“Oh. An Adventuring party.” Kravitz sat down on the ledge next to Angus. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?”

“I’ll let them do the heavy lifting. They’ve got a mage and a fighter and…. I’m not sure what class the blond is.” They watched the fight. “They’re doing quite well considering they don’t have a cleric. I would have brought a cleric to fight a vampire. Oh I guess he’s a druid. Didn’t look like a druid.”  

“Yeah. Druids tend to not dress that well.” Angus swung his feet. The sounds of the fight echoed off the walls, obscuring whatever banter might be going on below. “So that’s it? That’s the mystery? A vampire moved into the castle?” 

Kravitz watched the adventuring party tear through the lesser undead. Several lower level vampires went down. He kept an eye on them, some vampires retained their souls, most didn’t. The elder vampire did. 

“Well it was a  _ real  _ vampire if that makes a difference.” 

Angus giggled into his hands. 

“They’re going to be waleing on that vampire for a while. Tell me about the fake vampire?” 

 

Angus explained that someone had been pretending to be a vampire to scare people away from a graveyard because they’d chanced on records of treasure being in one of the mausoleums, and were systematically breaking into them to find it, but they wanted privacy to do it. 

“It turns out it was the groundskeeper the whole time!” 

“Really? It sounded like it might be the new librarian.” 

“I thought so for a while too, but it didn’t make sense.”

“Hold that thought-” The adventuring party had worn away the vampire’s hit points, and he had transformed to mist to escape. The mage was doing her best to contain it, but it was clear she was nearly out of spell slots. Kravitz dropped down and into his Reaper form, ripping the soul out of the undead mist. He wasn’t the least surprised when they tried to attack him. He retreated back up into the shadows, even though the druid jumped after him with an almost impossible lunge. 

Back with Angus, he listened to the echoey discussion below.

“Sounds like they’re going to be searching the place. Probably hit first ask questions later. You should leave.” 

Angus heaved a sigh, but nodded, and headed to the exit of the gallery. 

“Goodbye sir!” 

Kravitz was back on the astral plane before he snapped his fingers in realization 

“Oh, he was a dhampir! That explains everything.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Angus was studying at his desk when he heard a knock. He turned towards his door and it came again. From the window.  Then he thought he heard someone say his name outside the window. His room was on the fourth floor. He shifted his lamp and saw perched on the windowsill was a raven. It was staring at him. It was… wearing jewelry?  Angus opened the window, and it settled onto the wider sill. The raven’s beak opened

“What are you doing here?” there was no mistaking that voice, or the accent.

“I go to school here.” Angus answered. “What are you doing here Mr. Kravitz?” 

The raven tipped his head this way and that, staring around the room. 

“Where’s your roommate, then?” 

“I don’t have one, I’m in the upper forms so the boys my age won’t room with me and the older boys don’t want to room with a child.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “And I’m up this late because I’m studying. Now, what are you doing here?” 

The raven gave the distinctive quark sound that ravens did, but it sounded like laughter.

“I was picking up a bounty elsewhere in the city, and when I passed this campus I felt faint traces of necromantic energy. I’ve been flying about for an hour trying to track it down, and then I noticed you.”

“And you came to get my help?” Angus perked up, pleased at the idea of a mystery- in his own school even.

The raven that was Kravitz nibbled at his talons. 

“Well… no. I thought if something was going on you’d be in the middle of it.” 

“Oh.” 

“ _ Can _ you help me?” 

Angus thought for a long moment. He bit his bottom lip while he was thinking, then slapped a fist into his other hand. 

“I think I can! Come in, it’ll be easier if I lead you through the halls.”

 

Kravitz hopped down onto the floor, and briefly dissolved into a whirlwind of black feathers and smoke. It swept up to twice Angus’s height, then down to match it, as a figure emerged. Instead of the tall imposing man he’d always appeared like before, Kravitz wore a round cheeked, snub nosed version of the same face. Even his hair was shorter, the dreads sticking out like a nimbus around his head, though there were still gold bands clasped into them. The effect was somewhat ruined by the neat suit and feathered cloak he still wore. Angus covered his mouth with both hands which didn’t do much to hide his delighted expression. 

“Why are you so small?” Kravitz demanded. Angus didn’t have an answer for that and just shrugged helplessly. But he padded over to his door and opened it carefully peering up and down the hall before he reached back and grabbed Kravitz’s hand.

“Come on.” he whispered, and pulled him out into the darkened hallway. 

 

Windows let moonlight in at either end, and all the doors were shut tight with no light leaking out from beneath them. Angus led him to the stairwell.  “We have to be careful.” he whispered. “I’m blackmailing the headmaster so he doesn’t tell my parents when I go missing as long as I pass all the exams, but the dorm wardens are real stickers.”  They climbed stairs until they reached a locked door. Angus finally dropped Kravitz’s hand to pick the lock. It wasn't much of a lock, more of a casual determent. The door opened on a dusty hallway. “There’s another flight of stairs on the other end.” Angus explained. “They go up to the attic.”

“What’s in the attic?” 

“A ghost. At least that’s what they say. It’s my best bet.” They crept along the hallway, and Kravitz raised his face looking at the ceiling. 

“They’re right.”  He hurried ahead and was stopped by another locked door. He stared at it incredulously, and rattled it as if that would change it’s locked state. Angus tripped it with a couple of moments work.

“There’s lots of locked doors around here, sir.” he explained. “I suppose I could just get a copy of the master key, but at least this way I stay in practice.” The stairs the door opened up on were narrow and terminated in another door, which was also locked. As Angus worked it open, his breath began to fog. The door swung open as soon as it was unlocked, and the room it opened on was low ceilinged, and dark.  Angus stood up, but Kravitz stepped in front of him.

“Let me go first.” he said softly.  The air was heavy with dust, and Angus pulled a pack of matches out of his pocket, lighting one and holding it aloft. The light revealed old trunks tucked under the low sides of the attic, and boxes piled up and covered in dust. A pale face swept out of nowhere, mouth and eyes gaping black holes

“GO AWAY!” screamed the ghost, and the match went out. Angus’s yelp was strangled and he grabbed ahold of Kravitz. 

“Oh,” Kravitz’s voice was very soft and kind. “You’ve been here a long time, haven't you?” A faint glow started up, nimbusing the reaper, as he slowly expanded upward to his normal form. A shadow with a pale face lurked behind some boxes at the edge of the light, and Angus let go of the fistful of feathered cloak he was holding. 

“Go away.” Sobbed the ghost again, becoming clearer. Angus noted that he was wearing an archaic version of the uniform he wore. 

“No.” Kravitz extended his hands. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you like to go?”

“I can’t.” the ghost sobbed. “I can’t. Leave me alone.” Red bloody marks glowed sullenly on the pale skin of his face and hands. 

“What did they tell you?”

“That I’d rot here forever with my body, because they didn’t get what they wanted.” 

“They lied. I’m sorry it took so long to find you.”

Hesitantly, the ghost put his hands into Kravitz’s. 

“Really?”

“Really.” He drew the spirit close, cloak closing around him in a hug. There was one more faint sob, and then silence.  The glow surrounding Kravitz faded, leaving them in the natural darkness of the attic, faint light coming in from a window tucked under the eves.  Kravitz turned around and shrunk back into the child form. The ghost was gone.

“We can go now.”

“We don’t need to find the body?” Angus asked. “I thought unburied bodies were why ghosts happened.” 

“No, he’s gone now. He just needed help. Whoever did that to him is long dead.” Kravitz smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “I will be looking for them though.” 

 

Angus didn’t bother relocking the door at the top of the stairs but he did relock the bottom.  He was sort of surprised that Kravitz was waiting for him. 

“I kind of expected you to be gone, sir.” 

Kravitz sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, an old gesture on a young face. 

“Because you invited me in, I need you to let me out the same way.” he admitted. “Old rules.” 

Angus filed that bit of knowledge away. Neither of them said anything further until they were back in Angus’s room. In another swirl of black feathers, Kravitz was back in raven form, and he hopped up onto the windowsill. 

“Thank you.” He said bobbing his head. 

“Uh- Mr. Kravitz?” 

“Yes?”

“Before you go, can I… can I touch your feathers, sir? They look really soft.” 

Kravitz stared, tipping his head one way, then the other, and shook himself, feathers fluffing up further. Then he stretched his neck forward, head and murderous beak dipping down. 

“Here, at the base of my neck, right above the wings.” 

A gentle hand smoothed the feathers.

“A little harder than that, give it a scratch, get your fingers into the down.”  

Angus followed instructions well, and Kravitz’s beak clacked happily. 

“Ah… I forgot how nice that felt.” 

Angus drew his hand back and smiled happily. “They  _ were  _ really soft.” 

“You’re just lucky I’m not a real raven. They do eat carrion after all. They can get smelly.” He leapt off the window sill without further comment, hearing Angus call 

“Goodbye sir” after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to find me on tumblr at thebestworstidea  
> If you think you got a reference let me know, almost every section has at least one reference to various stories I've read or seen. Some have more than one.  
> I know more about several of them than I wrote down, since it wouldn't fit well in the story.


	3. In which The Author does horrible things to our Boy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz has the worst bounty ever. Angus's day is worse. They part ways.

An abandoned house on the outskirts of town was pretty standard budding necromancer territory. Stable caves were harder to come by and often inhabited by other creatures that would have to be evicted first. So for bargain basement blood mages, abandoned houses were the easiest start. On the side towards the road, the windows and doors were all still firmly boarded up, but around the back a few boards had been pulled on the downstairs windows and the door was completely free. Hazy smoky light filtered out from between the boards. 

 

Inside, it was lit by a few old lamps, the air thick with smoke, the occupants sprawled on dusty furniture, casually. They didn’t notice when Kravitz appeared. 

After a few minutes, he stopped waiting for them to notice, and said something. 

“How about you put your hands on your heads and get on your knees?”

“It’s the fuzz!” yelped one

“Man, FUCK the police.” the boy who said that didn’t even raise his head from where he was staring at the ceiling. 

“Mulaney!” 

Kravitz stepped forward into the lamplight, which gleamed against his skull.

“You want to try that again?” 

“Holy Fuck!”

“Cheese it!” their attempts to run were mostly unsuccessful, tripping over each other, the furniture, and in one case the door jam. One of the lamps fell over and extinguished, and another swayed crazily casting shadows everywhere in wild patterns. 

“Are you drunk or are you high?” Kravitz demanded, almost embarrassed on their behalf.

“Uh both?” the talkative one ventured.

 

This was it. After a thousand years, this was officially the  _ worst bounty ever _ . 

 

One of them started crying.

“No I’m a good boy, my mommy loves me~”

“Oh for fuck’s sake-”

“Mommy~” 

“Are you sure she’d be proud considering what you’ve done?” 

“I didn’t say she’d be proud of me, I said she loved me.” 

Kravitz didn’t have a ready reply for that one.  He read their crimes instead. None of them managed to find the door. Or scream.

 

They were gangly and spotty, dressed in mismatched blacks. None of them were over twenty. 

What kinds of kids were being raised these days? It didn’t matter. The Queen didn’t care about age when it came to perverting death. There had been three in the room and five on the list.  Maybe the last two would be less… embarrassing. Kravitz’s senses filled the dusty decrepit house, feeling for the sparks of souls. The house held two more, both upstairs, one freshly dead and stuttering, refusing to leave the plane.  Near that was a soul that he really hoped would learn better already. How did Angus McDonald keep ending up in these places? Kravitz was about to go investigate when the door behind him opened. 

“Hey guys, I got the snacks- And you were like, so totally wrong, Ellie was  _ not  _ flirting with me last time. I hope you’re all proud of how badly I embarrassed myself…” he trailed off, staring around the room, taking everything in.

“I think that’s the least of your worries.” Kravtiz said simply.

 

Most of the second floor was taken  up with a large room. It had once been brightly painted, but that was obscured now by amateurish daubs of vaguely mystical graffiti. An all seeing eye on the ceiling was better executed, if faded, and surrounded by a series of painted runes and charms to block sight instead of enhance it. Also on the walls were pieces of animals, nailed in place.  Mostly smaller ones, cats, dogs, rabbits, chickens- some pigeons. Some bits looked like an effort had been made to preserve them- badly cleaned skulls for instance. Stretched out wings. Others… the splatter pattern suggested they’d been alive when they were applied to the wall. He gave the circles on the floor another look, and then another at the ceiling. Small crimes should have picked up this group months ago. Before it got as far as...

 

He turned towards the head of the room and the far too predictable altar like table, and the body that had collapsed in front of it. The soul belonging to it was that of the last teen necromancer, which was doing it’s best to get back inside their body. 

The body probably would have lived if it hadn’t ripped the small crossbow bolt out, as it was they’d beld out quickly, covering the floor, the pool heading on it’s way to disrupt the carefully if badly formed runes on the floor. The crossbow itself was stowed again in the bag slung across the boy detective’s chest. A spatter marked Angus’s small face, but he was focused on the bundle in his arms. He didn’t look up as Kravtiz approached, collecting the soul and ushering it away. That done, he stood beside Angus, but didn’t speak. 

 

“I was too late.” he said, not exactly to Kravitz. “If I’d been faster, found the clues faster- if I was a  _ better detective _ , I wouldn’t have been too late.” 

The reaper took the bundle from the boy, and even though he already knew what the wrappings held, he opened a fold. It looked like a wax doll of a baby. The necromancers had drained every bit of the tiny body’s blood for their ritual. He felt his teeth clench. Sometimes the Eternal Stockade seemed too kind. A hiccup of a sob brought his attention back to the living child in the room. 

“You can’t blame yourself for this.” Kravitz said, his accent wobbling slightly. 

Angus shook his head a little, tears streaming down his face, hand still covering his mouth. This boy, Kravitz remembered was still only nine years old. 

“I was supposed to find him.” he whimpered. “His parents  _ trusted  _ me to find him before he was hurt.” 

The infants tiny spark of a soul had been released when the last of the teenage necromancers had died. It had found it’s way to the Ethereal plane on it’s own. There was nothing Kravitz could do for the infant. He put the body down, and instead, picked up the boy detective. Angus buried his face in the feathers of Kravtiz’s cloak, as the reaper hummed gently under his breath, rocking him gently, and not minding the tears. The humming and the magic he laced it with soothed the boy detective, though the tears didn’t stop just yet. It was a little odd to cast magic like that, like a living person, instead of just willing it, but bardic magic would work better for what he was going to do.

“I think...“ he murmured voice a gentle sing song, insinuating magic instead of forcing it. It could be resisted if Angus thought to do so “I think you followed your leads just fine. But instead of going in yourself, you go to get the militia, like they always ask you to.” Angus made a sound not negation, more confusion. Out of character. Kravitz pushed it anyway, work accent forgotten “You never know how late you were. You never came into the house.” Rewriting memories was chancy stuff, so this was more like repressing them.  He repeated himself as he carried the boy down the stairs. Outside the abandoned house, he set Angus on his feet and wiped the blood and tears off his face. For a moment the boy blinked, then scrambled off silently. To go to the authorities, presumably. Kravitz liked the boy’s intelligence and pluck, but hoped he would never see him again. 


	4. In Which Death Meets Angus (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz runs into Angus again. Taako is also there. A good time is had by all.

One very good thing about the Bureau of Balance was the cafeteria. Sure, Taako made fun of the food there, but it was good, and there was plenty of it, and the meal shifts were long enough that Angus could hit them even if he’d gotten distracted. Also, the cooks knew how to cook vegetables so they were good, which had been a general surprise when he’d dutifully taken some the first few times. He liked spinach! And carrots! And beets! The jury was still out on broccoli. It was a great deal less onerous to eat healthy food when it had good flavors in it. There were enough varying diets on the moon that he’d tried lots of things that a boy normal wouldn’t have.  He could eat meat at every meal if he wanted. People were more likely to make sure he had desert than to give him a hard time about it. Angus was looking forward to dinner because he’d been reading and forgotten lunch. But as he came in to the cheerfully noisy room, he ran into someone.

“Angus! Just who I was hoping to see.” Brad Bradson smiled broadly. 

“How can I help you, Mr. Bradson?” Angus asked, trying not to look around him to see what was being served tonight. 

“Call me Brad, it’s okay.”

“Okay sir?” 

“I was hoping you could deliver this to Taako?” He pulled his clipboard form under his arm, and pulled an envelope from the bottom of the stack. “I keep trying to get in touch with him, but he never seems to get my messages. Think that’s a mystery you can break for me?” 

Angus took the envelope and smiled back a little. Brad was nice, but he always came across as a little condescending. The consequence of being the only little boy on the moon, Angus supposed. 

If he hurried, he could get dinner after. He trotted across the quad to the elevators. 

 

Angus had been the the Reclaimer’s Dorm often enough now that he knew how long to wait after knocking. The answer was different depending on who he expected to be there. Magnus would answer the door within a minute, sometimes after the sound of tipping furniture. Merle would only answer if he felt like it, or if someone knocked multiple times. Taako wouldn’t answer to multiple knocks, and always waited long enough to make Angus wonder if he wasn’t coming at all. But he was used to it now, and waited patiently until the door reluctantly opened, showing Taako in leggings and a slightly translucent shimmering silk blouse. 

“I know I’ve given you the vague impression that I like you and all, Ango, but what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry sir, I have a message from Humanoid Resources?”

“Oh  _ fuck  _ Brad.” Taako groaned. “It’s Taako’s fun time.” He took the note and waved Angus into the entryway however, opening it up and making a frustrated noise. “Oh like it’s anyone’s business if I take an apprentice or how I chose to teach you.” the note was crumpled up and dropped into the umbrella stand- which held a rapier, an axe, several other pieces of trash, and absolutely no umbrellas. “Honestly.” he looked at Angus for a moment. “I suppose sending you back with the message ‘fuck you, strongly worded letter to follow’ would be unfair, Agnes.” 

Angus was busy sniffing the air, something smelled delicious. 

“I could.” he offered. “But you’d probably forget to write the letter.” His stomach growled and his cheeks turned red. 

“Ugh, let me feed you some leftovers. You’re tiny. You’re not secretly a halfling, are you? Because you don’t seem to be getting any bigger.”

“No sir, I’m a normal boy.” 

“How are you going to challenge me for supremacy if you can’t look me in the eye?” Taako turned away and headed into the apartment. 

“If I could look you in the eye, you’d get taller heels, sir.”  Angus trotted after him. 

“Damn right I would.” 

 

“It’s a’right Krav. It’s just my magic boy. I told you about Angus, right? Smartest damn eleven year old on the moon.” Taako swept into the room and resumed his seat on the couch next to his visitor, sprawling in his near trademarked way. “Angus this is-” 

“Mr. Kravitz sir!” Angus looked genuinely shocked and his eyes shifted back and forth as he mentally connected dots. “Oh. OH. Oooooh.” he stared at Taako. “Oh.” 

“Kid, if your eyes get any bigger they’re gonna pop out of your head.”

“It’s just of all of the people your secret boyfriend could be, it didn’t occur to me that it could be Mr. Kravitz.” 

“I have a ‘secret boyfriend’?” Taako asked, amused. 

“Well, not a very  _ good  _ secret. It’s been the hot gossip.” 

“I  _ always _ cause gossip Ango. Now, rounding the corner a bit, ‘Mr. Kravitz’? Correct me if I’m wrong, kid, but that kind of sounds like you know him. Personally. And on a for-you first name basis.”

Kravitz’s exclamation of

“I wouldn’t say that,” overlapped with Angus’s frantic

“Well, maybe?” They looked at eachother, then both shrugged.

“It’s not really important, is it?” Kravitz asked

“No, I want to hear this.” Taako’s ears were perked, and he sat up a bit. “How do you two know each other?” Kravitz and Angus looked at eachother again, as if trying to sort out who was going to talk. Angus shrugged apologetically. 

“Angus… had a string of near ‘me’ encounters.” Kravitz explained.  “He was never dying, but we ended up in the same places more often than is likely.”

“It  _ really  _ wasn’t on purpose, sir. I was never looking for necromancers. Well. I was one time, but that was an outlier.”

“If I think about it, it had to be some sort of manipulation of fate that he ended up crossing paths with them at the same time I ended their paths.” He looked at Angus thoughtfully. “You aren’t a favorite of Istus are you?”

“Me? No sir, I don’t think so. I haven’t been spoken to by any god or goddess.” his eyebrows drew together as he thought. “Well, of which I am aware.” His stomach growled again, and Taako waved a hand at the assortment of finger foods on the coffee table. 

“Try a spinach puff, they turned out great.” 

Angus sat down on the floor next to the coffee table and picked one up nibbling it carefully to avoid crumbs. 

“Fuckin’ unnatrual, Krav.” Taako chuckled. “I mean, my spinach puffs are the bomb, but the kid is actually eating them instead of the chocolate cheesecake bites not three inches away.” 

“You said these were leftovers sir. I’ll get to them.” Looking over the spread of finger food, he selected something wrapped in bacon. Taako laughed a little, and swung a leg over Kravitz’s lap before picking up his wine glass, and ranting a bit about Humanoid Resources in general and Brad specifically, while Angus worked his way through everything, sometimes going back for a second if something was especially good. He had a speck of custard on his cheek and a smudge of chocolate on his lips when he slowed down.  If he tried to make a meal of it, he’d probably eat everything that was left, and that wouldn’t be polite. Angus wiped his mouth on his handkerchief and folded it back into his pocket, then waited until Taako and Kravitz finished their conversation and looked over at him. 

 

“Would you mind if I asked you a couple questions?”  Angus asked. Kravitz blinked, but shrugged, setting his wine glass down. 

“I suppose a couple wouldn’t hurt unless it’s something that has to be kept a secret.”

“What happened to your accent, sir?” 

Taako burst out laughing

“G’wan.” he choked out to Kravitz. “Tell him what happened to your accent.” 

Kravitz sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a fake accent that I use for work.” 

Angus nodded. 

“I thought so, sir, but thank you for admitting it.” 

Taako went into fresh gales of laughter. 

“Didn’t fool my boy for a  _ minute _ .”

“But uh, Mr.Kravitz sir?”

“Yes?”

“You thought  _ that  _ accent would make you more intimidating?” the disbelief was dripping from the boy’s voice, and Taako lost what little composure he had left. 

“No that’s not- Taako love,  _ please. _ ”

“I’m good I’m good.” the elf stifled laughter against the back of his hand.  Kravitz drew himself up and looked back at Angus. 

“I don’t have much of a life outside work,” he started “So I like to-” he stopped as Taako squeaked with fresh laughter. “I can wait until you’re done.”

“I really don’t think you can.” 

“The accent is to seperate myself from my work. I don’t need to be more intimidating.”  he sighed long and deep, an excellent use for breathing. “... _ most _ people find me quite intimidating.” 

“I can tell by how m’boychick’s quaking in his booties.” 

“What was the other question?” Kravitz tried to steer the conversation away, expecting some technical question about working for death, or even what his intentions were with Taako, whom Angus plainly cared about. 

The young detective took a deep breath, and looked down at his hands. 

“Why did you take the memory of the first person I killed away?”

 

No one was laughing now. 

“ _ What _ ?” Taako erupted.

“ **First** ?” 

“Lot to unpack there, little guy.” Taako’s nails were digging into the couch cushion.  Kravitz’s eyes glowed as he stared Angus in the eyes, frowning. Angus met his gaze, brows knit but not looking away. At last, Kravitz looked away, the red still showing beneath his eyelids as he sighed. The light slowly faded, leaving only his normally luminescent eyes. 

“Don’t scare me like that.” 

“Krav?”

“I can count the marks of kills on people’s souls-”

“Oh good.” Taako did not meet his eyes, suddenly. 

“I have to do it on purpose, and I don’t really care, love, not my department. It’s just a thing I can do.” he patted Taako’s hand. 

“Oh I don’t care.” Taako said in the voice of someone who did. 

“When did you remember, Angus?” 

“Answer my question first. I asked first.” 

“That wasn’t the death I was trying to shield you from.”

“Oh.” Angus pondered this, then gave an accepting nod. 

“Well? When did you remember?”

“The second. They both… died when they pulled the bolt out. So it was similar, and I realised how familiar it was. But it would have been easier to pull the trigger if I’d remembered.”

“Alright taquito, come here.” Taako pulled Angus into his lap and settled him so he was tucked under his chin. Angus had started getting used to Taako’s capricious affection and accepted the pointy chin to the head. Kravitz leaned on the back of the couch and smiled at them both. In this strange new situation- Taako created them, he was sure- he could admit to himself that he was very fond of Angus. He’d given Kravitz the gift of conversation with a living soul. He wouldn’t have done what he’d done if he hadn’t cared. Erasing Angus’s presence had taken more than just altering his memories. 

“So look kid, gah, no don’t look at me, just listen; because if you tell someone I said this I will flat out deny it. Death shouldn’t be easy. Killing people shouldn’t be easy. You  _ shouldn’t  _ get used to it.”  Out of Angus’s line of sight, Kravitz held up three fingers, and Taako breathed a sigh of relief. 

“No, you’re right sir, but I need to accept it. Sometimes it’s what needs to happen. You kill people. Mr. Kravitz kills people. Magnus kills people.” 

“Okay, so, has Caitlyn Cleftland ever killed anyone?”

“Caleb Cleveland sir, and with all due respect, he’s  _ fictional _ , however enjoyable. It’s not a question of  _ if  _ he’s going to survive but  _ how _ .” 

Taako gave a theatrical gasp.

“Who told you?” 

Kravitz laughed. So did Angus. 

“Look, I’m a rad rolemodel and all, and you should be so lucky as to be more like me, but in this exact case, you should try to be more like your boy Caleb.”

Angus was quiet for several minutes.

“What’cha thinking about pumpkin?”

“Caleb Cleveland was framed for murder a few books ago.” Angus said seriously. “It was a big deal, he lost his badge for more than half the book.” 

“Did he do it?”

“No sir, but he wasn’t  _ sure _ , so he had to find the real killer.” 

“I have a question actually?” Kravitz interjected.

“It’s only fair, sir.” 

“Who is Caleb Cleveland?” 

Even if Taako rolled his eyes, he was smiling as Angus explained the series, and then the plot of the novel in question to Kravitz, so it was absolutely the right decision. 

“All right my turn.” Taako said after the synopsis. “So, I’ve been thinking about the death stare thing; And I’m curious- what’s the most kills you’ve ever seen someone with?”

Kravitz seemed to give this question serious thought.

“Two thousand, eight hundred and sixty three.” 

Taako almost spit out his wine. 

“How is that not a death crime?

“When it’s mostly chickens. A  _ butcher _ , luv.” 

Angus started giggling. 

“What’s so funny, sprout?” 

“Nothing sir.” Angus kept giggling and Taako grabbed a pair of his curls, one on each side of his head and twisted them into sharper ringlets.

“‘Nothing sir’” he said mockingly. “My exquisitely shaped ass.” Kravitz made a noise that would have been a giggle in a less dignified man, as Angus dipped his head to pull his hair free. Taako grabbed another two curls and repeated the gesture, because he could. Besides, ringlets  looked adorable sticking out of Angus’s hat and it was hardly the first time he’d done it. “What’s so funny?”

“Mr. Kravitz is teasing you!” 

Taako looked over Angus’s head, and put on a face of shock and betrayal. Kravitz actually laughed softly. 

“He’s right. The death marks only tally humanoids, and some other intelligent beings.” 

Taako gave a gusting laugh of his own after a moment. “Taking advantage of a poor idiot wizard’s innocence. The two of you together is bad news.” 

“I take objection to ‘idiot’” Kravitz said, and a barely noticeable blush came up on his face and ears, though his smile was broad. “And ‘innocence’, for that matter.” 

Taako coughed, and pushed Angus off his lap.  

“Okay, Ango, you’ve solved my boyfriend puzzle and gotten some premo advice and h'ors doeuvres, why don’t you head up and grab some dinner before the shift ends. I hear it’s karaoke night in the rec center.”

“Oh that’s right!” Angus perked up. “And Mr. Davenport is having a good day too!” 

“Great, you do that, and I’m gonna try to charm Krav out of his undershirt.” 

It was Kravtiz’s turn to choke on wine, an especially good trick since he didn’t need to breathe. 

Angus just laughed, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out.

“Ew, sir.” 

“Don’t knock it till you try it… in a few years.”

“Goodbye sir. Goodbye Mr. Kravitz.” 

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Angus. I much prefer it to seeing you hanging around with necromancers.”  And even if he was working for a secret organization based on a fake moon, it was hardly a cult, and Kravitz could now honestly look forward to seeing the boy again. Taako shooed him out and almost certainly locked the door. The elf prowled back into the room, and smiled as he approached the couch, straddling Kravitz’s lap and running his fingers down the lapels of Kravitz’s vest. 

“Now then,” he purred, and his fingers curled into the fabric and pulled. “You’re going to tell me what death you  _ were  _ shielding the kid from. _ Right now _ .” 

And somehow, in between trying to decide if he should laugh or kiss Taako, he realized just how much he loved him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was fun. Next project: I really want to draw some illustrations for this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Rather than try to type Kravitz's accent I described it.
> 
> As surprises no one who knows me well, Angus and Kravitz are two of my favorite characters, and I wanted to write a story mostly about them. 
> 
> find me on tumblr @thebestworstidea if you want to yell at me about TAZ


End file.
